


Carrying Their Names on His Back

by DonnaClaireHolmes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnaClaireHolmes/pseuds/DonnaClaireHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has had death follow him around like an unwanted shadow for years. As soon as he turned eighteen, he decided to memorialize them in a way he'll never forget.</p><p>based off of a head cannon by tumblr user devastatingdean</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carrying Their Names on His Back

I have a thing for eyes. Eyes tell stories, character, past and sometimes even future. Throughout years in my industry, I mostly see eyes full of fear or regret. Once or twice, usually newlyweds, full of promise and passion, but I can always tell. Eyes hold the stories of who we are.

 

 

Being a tattoo artist, you see people come in here with some weird requests. Dragons, anime, hell even one guy with the bluest eyes came in and asked for something called "enochian" on his side about a year ago. I took a picture when he wasn't looking just 'cause it was so odd. But I will never forget the kid who came to me back in 1997, a handful of crumpled bills in his hand, and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. But there was something different about them, they weren't full of fear. They had a bit of regret, sure, but they were drowning in loss. Every time the kid came in since, the loss has become stronger and more prominent. But the first time, i could have sworn I saw a single tear form in the kid's eye as he handed me the money and a small piece of paper with a name. _Mary Winchester._ I didn't ask any questions as the kid lay face down on my table and pointed to the highest point of his spine before it could be seen under his t-shirt. He didn't want someone to know about it. I pulled out a list of fonts, and he chose a simple typewriter style. I knew I would end up seeing him again so before he left, I asked his name. "Dean" "Pleasure, Dean. I'm Donna." And with a shake of his hand and a nod of his head, the sad green eyes left my parlor. 

 

There are three of us in the parlor all together, and we each decorate our studio rooms in our own odd ways. Janine, the stunning crimson-red haired beauty had a thing for mysteries, so she had bookshelves put up in her studio, mostly detective stories with the occasional trinket, like a magnifying glass and an old British pipe. Ian, the tall, tan boy from New Zealand with blond hair-dyed-silver, loved magic. Neal Patrick Harris is his idol, and his studio is filled with spell books and props. I'm more into science fiction and astrology, with my telescope pointing out the window, and constellation posters on one wall. With the fiction part of my love, I have an original "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" poster signed by Martin Freeman and Zooey Deschanel. Another wall, with the window and telescope, has my desk, and sketches of some people's eyes that stood out the most. As soon as that boy left, I grabbed my sketchbook and pencils and went to work. I swear, if someone were to look up sadness in the dictionary right now, those boys eyes would be next to it. I wrote his name on the back, like I do the rest, and taped my latest work on my wall. Yeah, it's a bit weird, but hey, its my life and I'll live it how I choose thank you very much.

 

Nine years and three different changes in my hair color later, those green sad eyes come strolling in again. I'm in back eating lunch with Ian, so Janine greets him at the front desk, but he asks for me specifically. Wow... he remembered my name. Usually people who come in here more than once just call me "star-lady" or "eye-lady" because they're too drunk or ignorant to remember. I walk out front and man am I shocked to see this kid. Tall, nicely built, and a voice that's not too deep for his body. "Hey Donna. It's been a while." I take him back to my studio, and he hands me another slip of paper, this time reading John, but the same last name, Winchester. I sit down and look at him. He's got a small smirk but the eyes let me see right past it. "Sit down, kid." He listens like a respectful boy. "I know it's none of my business, but usually there's a story behind every tattoo, and I like to make sure every one that comes from my hands has a proper story. So what's yours?" He takes a seat across from me, stares down at his hands like they've done something wrong. "John and Mary are my parents, and they died. I don't want to feel like I've let them down so I want to be able to carry them with me." And there's that single tear again, but this time he lets it fall. "Mom died when I was just a kid. We've been traveling ever since, my dad, my little brother and I. Dad's got a difficult job and he passed it down to us... Honestly, Donna, I don't know why I'm telling you all this." "Because you can trust me. It's not like I have secret cameras and mikes in here waiting to post you on the internet." He chuckles a little, wipes the tear, and continues. "Dad died two weeks ago on the job, and I can't stop feeling like it's my fault. It is my fault." More tears. Alright, mom mode on. I go over and kneel in front of him.

"Dean? Hey, it's alright, kid. It's not your fault." "But if I only shot him and killed the demon then he wouldn't have tried to kill me and then he wouldn't have made the deal with the demon to bring me back and kill himself in the process!!" Wow... okay maybe this kid has a few issues, but I heard the word demon, so that means hunter. I can trust him. "Alright, Dean, it's alright." Still in front of him, I tug up my left sleeve, revealing a heart on my wrist and three smaller hearts inside it. "My turn to tell a story. Eleven years ago, I had a husband, David, and three beautiful daughters, Rose, Amy and Clara, triplets. We went out camping for Memorial Day weekend, it was a tradition. David had served in Iraq and loved to show the girls little tricks he learned. The camp ground we went to allowed hunting, so David brought his rifle and taught Rose, the oldest and 13 at the time, how to shoot. She got a squirrel on her first go. But that's when I noticed a black smoke go into her nose. I thought it was just something from the gun, but then she shot David in the head three times. Turned around and got both her little sisters. I ran as fast as I could, but she got me in the leg. Whatever was in her spoke with such authority, it still haunts me, along with those black eyes. 'I will allow you to live. Never hunt again, especially for me.' I watched as my baby girl put the gun in her mouth and pull the trigger.  See, I know about monsters and demons. Tried my damn hardest to stay away from them and I've been doing fairly well so far." I showed him my wrist. A "D" in the big heart, with "R", "A", and "C" in the small ones. "I know what it's like to want to carry them with you." I said as I stood, and he stood too. After adding his dad's name underneath his mom's, he hugged me. "I'll keep an eye out for you, make sure nothing decides to come back." "I'll be fine, kid, I've done some studying, and we've got plenty of salt in the back." He smirked, and out he went, with a little less sadness in those big green eyes.

 

Two years passed, and I had just flipped the sign on our door to open when he walks up and gives his little smirk. Walking in, he gives me another hug. "Hey, kid." "Donna, I'm 29. I think I've outgrown 'kid', don't you think?" "Nah, you'll always be that little 18 year old kid to me." I tussle his hair, which he doesn't like, yet doesn't mind. We head back to my studio. "Who is it today?" I knew he didn't come without a name. _Pamela Barnes_. "A good friend and a psychic. Let's just say a lot happened this past year and she helped us out. It cost her life. Seems that all our friends end up loosing their life." "Kid, that should be in the job description of a hunter." We both chuckle this time, but the sadness in his eyes has changed. It's like he's seen more over the past two years than he ever has. I add her name, and he tells me what's been going on. "Angels. Fan-flipping-tastic. Where the hell have they been all this time?" They could have saved my family, they could have helped. "Sitting on their asses upstairs while the apocalypse is coming." Whatever. Just one more creature to avoid. Another hug, another smirk, and he's out the door again.

 

Six months. He practically stumbles in with red blotchy eyes and the usual hug lasts about two minutes as the tears come silently streaming. "So this Jo girl, she liked you. Did you like her?" "I think I was starting to, but you know this job, relationships are practically impossible." _Ellen_ and _Jo Harvelle_ are added. "Dean, do me a favor." I hand him a slip of paper. "Sign your name for me?" "What for?" "Come back again and maybe I'll tell you." With a hug, he's off. He sent me a letter a few weeks later. _Killed the devil, stopped the apocalypse, lost my brother but not for long._ Shit shit shit shit shit, what the hell is he doing? Making a deal like his father? I try to get a hold of him any way I can. Phone calls, letters, nothing works. 

 

For three years I wait to hear from him, and he comes when I least expect it, as always. I had just gotten home from my second honeymoon. Christopher, a local guy and friend of David's, seemed to notice the sadness in my own eyes and had plenty of light in his own to share. It was a slow day, and I was working on some paperwork when in walks a slightly intoxicated Dean, with a mess of hair and something new in his eyes. Rage and loss. He walked up to me slowly, and gave me his big green puppy dog eyes, which I smacked so hard he had to take a step back. He did deserve it, scaring me like that, but afterwards we embraced. I could not tell you how many times that boy apologized. He has another name, like always, but he held on to it a bit longer as he updated me. He congratulated me on my second marriage, and explained what his letter meant. At the time, he thought he would have to sacrifice himself to save his brother but a friend got there first. He told me how they recently lost an old friend who had been a father figure for as long as either of them could remember. _Bobby Singer_ was on the paper today. I realized today that I cared for this boy and his safety more that I'd like to admit. I gave him my number and told him to keep me updated. "Yes, mom." Sarcastic or not, it took me by surprise. He realized what he said. "I'm, I'm so sorry, Donna, I just..." I went in for another hug before he could continue. "It's alright, kid. I really don't mind." And for the first time in a long time, I saw a bit of happiness in his eyes.

 

Not even a year this time, and the kid wanders in but with a friend this time. It's odd, because his friend had come in a few weeks before the funny language I was talking about earlier. Small world. Now the two boys, one with blue and one with green eyes look at me with the same loss that I've seen six times before. I walk over to them before they reach the desk. "Donna, this is Cas, a friend." "We've met, nice to see you again." I say as I shake his hand. Dean looks at Cas and he just shrugs. Back in my studio, I learn Cas is an angel, specifically the angel who got both boys out of hell. And the boys befriended another prophet, which is why they are here today. Dean hands me the paper, and _Kevin Tran_ is added to the list. After my farewell hug with Dean, I am surprised by Cas, who also gives me a hug. Dean laughs and off they go.

 

 _Um , hey there. I'm Dean. I found this notebook on Donna's desk and figured our story should be properly finished. It was a week after I got Kevin's name on my back. Sam and I were staying in town on a job when I get a text from Donna. "_ Help" _I've told Sam about Donna before, and he understands that I have to go. I pull up to the parlor and I know something's wrong. The glass door has been broken and there are two bloody corpses in the lobby, I assume they're Ian and Janine. All i can make out is their hair, silver and red. That's when I hear here, a soft cry from the studio that had been a comfort zone for me. With my gun at my side, I break the door down, but I'm too late. The demon just pulled his knife from Donna's stomach and she fell. I shot the demon several times, seeing as I forgot the demon-killing knife at the motel. It laughed, and smoked out._

_I ran over to Donna. She was still conscious, but loosing blood, and fast. I held her in my arms. "Hey, hey Donna It's going to be okay, alright? I've got you." A tear slipped down her cheek, and one fell from mine too. She started pulling at her sleeve. "Donna, don't move, help's coming." As soon as I saw Ian and Janine, I texted Sam to get an ambulance. "She still pulled her sleeve up with whatever strength she had. I honestly had no idea what she'd done with my signature from a few years back, but on her right wrist is my name. Her breathing was frighteningly slow, and I was crying more than she was. She smiled, put a hand on my cheek, her other hand in mine. "My kid, all grown up now." And with a final exhale, she was gone. I held her for a few minutes until Sam and the EMT's came._

_She was buried in the cemetery down the road from her shop, along with Ian and Janine. I visit as often as I can, keep her updated on how I'm doing. I let her know that I saved some of her things from the parlor before the police swept through, like her telescope and her eye drawings. They're in my room in the bunker. It's been a rough process, but I found another tattoo parlor close to the bunker._

_I'll admit it, I miss Donna. But like so many people I've loved and lost, I can always carry her with me._

 


End file.
